Side by Side
by OoZolaoO
Summary: Steve catches cold and tries to hide it from the rest of the gang, particularly Claudia. But that doesn't always work when the metronome is involved.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hurrah, first WH13 fic! I'm about 3/4 of the way through the series right now and I have totally fallen in love - especially with Claudia. Hope you all enjoy!

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><p><strong>Side by Side<strong>

_Won't you let me match your stride?  
><em>_I can slow down if you want to.  
><em>_We can handle it side by side.  
><em>_What do you say now, don't you want to?_

_"_I'd Be Lying_,_" Greg Laswell 

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><p>The box was empty.<p>

Panicking, Steve flipped it over and shook it, the cardboard rattling in his hands. Nothing. With a groan he fell back onto his bed, the empty box of Dayquil lying, forgotten, on the floor.

"Great," he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his eyes. His headache was already starting to come back, and, sniffing experimentally, he found that the congestion was too. He struggled back up to a sitting position, closing his eyes against the dizziness beginning to tug at his vision again.

He'd woken up three days ago with the beginnings of what had turned out to be the cold from hell. It was a rather unpleasant surprise; apparently the metronome didn't do a whole lot for ailments that weren't a threat to his life.

Steve wasn't sure if Claudia would feel his sickness like she would his injuries, but he wasn't about to wait and find out. Her use of the metronome, while keeping him alive, had linked the two of them so that she felt every bump and bruise, every scratch that he received. It was inconvenient at its best, and deadly at its worst. While on the metronome, Steve couldn't be killed, but Claudia sure as hell could.

So three days ago when he'd woken up sneezing, he'd started popping cold meds like his life had depended on it. They'd kept his symptoms at bay for the most part, but apparently the metronome had accelerated his metabolism enough that he burned through them four times faster than a normal person would. And now he was out, and the all-too-familiar sensation of guilt was back with a vengeance.

None of this was fair to Claudia. She played it cool, but Steve had seen the way she'd limped around when he'd banged his knee on a shelf doing inventory, and he couldn't help but remember the pain in her eyes when Alice Liddell had stabbed him through the shoulder. She was young and bright-spirited and had such a glorious future ahead of her. It wasn't fair that she was now tied to him, an agent who had rightfully died in the field and had done nothing to warrant a resurrection.

A hot, prickling sensation in his nose distracted him from his guilt spiral, and he ducked his head into his elbow to catch a harsh sneeze. "huh'_RASSSH_'uh." He sniffled and wriggled his nose experimentally, trying to dislodge the tickle. No luck. "_AESSCH'uh."_

He was blowing his nose and trying to make his ears pop when someone knocked on his door. He quickly shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and cleared his throat before calling, "It's open."

Claudia let herself in with a flourish and tossed him a dossier. "Gooood morning, Jinksy!" He leaped for the folder and missed, and she snorted. "Nice work. Hopefully you'll be a little sharper in the field today."

Steve's heart sank. "We're going out into the field?"

"Yupperoni! Not too far, just over to Featherhead. The whole town's been out of power for a week now, and Artie wants us to check it out."

Steve raised an eyebrow as he paged through the dossier. "A power outage? That's what we're checking out?"

"Oh come on, don't be all elitist, Mister ATF," Claudia scoffed, plopping down onto the bed next to him. "I'm sure there will be something sufficiently artifact-y once we get there." She jostled him with her shoulder.

He sighed. "All right. I can pack and be ready to go in half an hour."

"Marvelous. I'll ready the car." Claudia got to her feet and was halfway to the door when she stopped, a look of vague confusion crossing her face. Steve had opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when she took a deep, shuddering breath and bent forward with a powerful "hupt_'CHOO_!" She straightened, shaking her head like a dog coming out of water. "Whew, sorry, no idea where that came from."

"Bless you." Steve swallowed. "I — I haven't cleaned in here lately."

"Hup'_CHUH! _Damn." Claudia scrubbed at her nose with the side of her hand. "That'd be it, dust always makes me sneezy." She sniffed hard, then cleared her throat. "Right then. I'm going to go blow my nose and let you pack, and then we can head out."

Steve heard her sneeze again in the hallway, followed by a "Bless you!" from Myka's room, and he dropped his head to his hands with a groan. It was going to be a long day.

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><p>Featherhead was a false artifact-alarm, as Steve had suggested, and it took the two agents more time to track down someone willing to talk to them than to fix the problem itself. Turned out that the power grid was buggy — literally. Claudia had gone in armed with pliers, a retrieval bag, and a welding mask but had only found a handful of spiders and some unlucky caterpillars that had gotten fried in the circuits.<p>

"Girl genius: 1, icky crawly things: 0," she muttered, giving herself a mental high five before crawling back out of the low-ceilinged closet housing the entire town's power grid. In an uncharacteristic show of impatience, Steve had gone to call Artie and bring the car around so they could be on their way back to the Warehouse.

_Something's up with him today_, Claudia mused, pausing to comb the spiderwebs out of her hair. _He's all…twitchy_. Speaking of twitchy — "hh'CHOO!" The sneeze caught her unawares, giving her no time to cover it. Her sneezes had always been loud and aggressive — a bit like her, she acknowledged — and generally came alone, unless she was catching something or had gotten into some dust. (Artie had finally taken her off shelf-cleaning duty when one too many of her impromptu sneezing fits had ended in an artifact disturbance.)

Today, though…"ahh — _hiih_ — ugh." She swore under her breath as she felt the sneeze slow to a halt somewhere deep in her sinuses, fluttering like a trapped bird and sending little shock waves of irritation through the rest of her nasal passages. She sniffed, pinching her nostrils roughly between index finger and thumb in an attempt to massage away the itch. But to no avail.

Eyes watering and breath hitching, Claudia spun to take stock of her surroundings. A small, cramped storage closet carpeted with yards of tangled wires. It had to be dusty in here somewhere.

She stumbled through the wires as she made her way to the back of the room, looking for — ah, a corner shelf. Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and blew.

The thin layer of dust coating the surface exploded into motion, swirling through the air in a cloud like a swarm of tiny locusts. Claudia's breath instantly caught, and she brought her hands quickly to her face.

"_h'AHH'chh — hpt'CHOO — mmpt_chh_, hhp'chh'_OO! Ugh, fugk." She sniffled thickly, pulling her hands from her face and shaking them in disgust. Gross.

She was heading back towards the main hallway when, like an echo, she heard a series of harsh masculine sneezes. She turned the corner to see Steve, leaning against the wall with his face buried in a handkerchief.

"Bless you!" Claudia greeted him, surprised. "God, I don't think I've ever seen you sneeze before."

Steve's cheeks were red as he shoved the wrinkled cloth back into his coat pocket. "Well, believe it or not I _am_ still human," he snapped. Claudia was taken aback.

"Whoa, sorry, too soon," she said, throwing up her hands in apology. "I guess that explains why I've been sneezing up a storm then. Made hunting the bugs a little tricky when I couldn't see straight."

"You — what?" His brow furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Claudia flapped a hand at him. "I don't think I can actually 'catch sneezes' from you anyway; I'll be fine once we're out of here." She offered her partner her arm, like she was escorting him to a ball. He took it, and she could feel the stiffness in his posture. Swallowing down a flash of concern — _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please don't be mad at me _— she wove their arms together and tipped an imaginary top hat. "Shall we, then?"

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><p>The drive back to Univille was painful. Overcome with a sudden, unexplainable exhaustion, Claudia tried to curl up in the passenger seat, but every time she was close to falling asleep her head would begin aching, or her nose would run and she'd have to wipe it on her shirtsleeve because they were driving Pete's car and the only thing close to a tissue was a napkin with ancient taco sauce smeared across it.<p>

She finally managed to drift into a light slumber about an hour into the trip, snoring gently with her face smooshed against the window. Steve normally would have smiled at the sight, or pulled over to take a picture and save it for blackmail, but he too was feeling the effects of their shared cold. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and he could no longer breathe through his nose. Claudia, amazingly enough, hadn't said anything about his silence today, and it made him even more worried about her. She was clearly succumbing to the illness that he'd been hiding beneath layers of medication, and it was hitting her hard and fast.

When she began to whimper in her sleep, shifting restlessly, Steve made an executive decision. He flipped open the Farnsworth and propped it carefully against the wheel, keeping his eyes open for cops on the highway.

"Steve?" Myka's face materialized, her curls tied back in a bandana. "Did you all get the artifact?"

"There wasn't one, but we took care of the power outage. Featherhead owes us a contractor's fee," he replied, taking care to keep his voice low. Claudia tended to sleep like a rock, but he didn't want to take any chances. "We're heading home."

Myka tilted her head. "Are you all right? You look a little…rough."

"Thanks." Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm okay, it's Claudia I'm worried about."

"Why? Is she okay?" Pete's head poked into view, shoving Myka to the side so the two of them were framed by the screen. Steve sighed.

"She's sick, looks like the beginning of a bad headcold." Funny that he knew exactly how bad. "It's taken her down pretty fast."

"Is she —?"

"She's sleeping, but…well, you know how she gets when she's sick."

Myka made a face. The last time Claudia was ill she had had such vivid nightmares that she couldn't sleep without someone in the room with her. Myka had taken the bulk of the shifts, spending hours tucked into an armchair in the corner of Claudia's room, reading her favorite novels aloud.

"Poor thing. I'll get Leena to put some soup on the stove, and I'll grab some more blankets for her bed." Myka disappeared off the screen, leaving Pete, who was looking mildly uncomfortable.

"Soooo what should I do?"

"Go to the drug store and get some cold medicine!" Myka yelled from offscreen. He flashed her a thumbs-up.

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up, man. We'll see you soon."

Steve closed the Farnsworth and set it back on the dashboard, then glanced over at Claudia. Her eyes were screwed shut as her lips moved silently in her sleep, too blurred for him to make out the words. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, letting his gaze drift back to the road. At least she'd be okay. He could suffer on his own.

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><p><strong>AN:** Nooo Steve don't feel guilty! Poor bud. Let me know what y'all think!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Welcome back! This is the second and final chapter of "Side By Side," which I must say I've very much enjoyed writing :3 Thanks a million to those of you who have read, reviewed, and favorited! It really means a lot, and it definitely encourages me to keep going in this fandom. I need to finish the series first though, hehe - I'm still in season four!

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><p><em>Side by Side<em>

Claudia woke to gravel crunching beneath their tires and caught a glimpse of Leena's before her lungs seized and she curled into herself in a coughing fit. She was only half aware of Steve's hand on her back.

"Breathe, Claude," he soothed her, his voice tight with worry.

The fit couldn't have lasted more than a minute or so, but by the time it ended she was light-headed and panting, and her chest felt like someone was sitting on it. "I feel like shit, Jinksy," she said, wincing. He squeezed her shoulder.

"You're going to be all right. Pete and Myka are — "

"Claude?"

She glanced up in surprise as her door opened, revealing the two in question. Myka reached in to unbuckle her seatbelt and helped her out of the car, something Claudia wouldn't have said she'd needed until she tried to stand on her own. As it was, she grasped Myka's arm woozily and allowed the older agent to steer her back towards the B&B.

Behind her, Pete whistled softly. "Damn. I would have said she looked fine this morning."

"Yeah, it happ— started pretty quickly," Steve replied, trying to keep his voice clear of the consonants that he knew would make his congestion obvious. Pete was oblivious.

"I'll go see if Myka needs any help. Thanks, man." He clasped Steve's shoulder briefly and took off at a jog after his partner. Head pounding, Steve leaned up against the car and closed his eyes for a moment as the world tipped around him. If he could just sneak some of the new cold medicine that Pete had picked up…well, honestly he had no idea if Claudia's symptoms would disappear at this point, but at least he'd be able to think straight.

Heh, think straight. He chuckled, then bent forward with a violent "_AEESCH'huh" _that made his dizziness even worse.

"Damb."

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><p>Steve must have tipped them off, Claudia mused as she huddled on her bed beneath a thick quilt and tried to keep from sneezing. Myka chuckled at her from the door.<p>

"That's an interesting face," she teased. Claudia's concentration lapsed for all of a second, and: "h'ehh_CHOO_!" She sniffled and reached for the box of tissues Myka had set on her bedside table.

"Thagks," she replied. "And thagks for, you dknow, tagkig care of be." She blew her nose thickly.

"It's no problem." Myka came over to press the back of her hand against Claudia's forehead. "You're still warm, but not as much as before. How are you feeling?"

Claudia chuckled, then coughed. "Stellar, thanks for asking, Doctor Bering." The congestion was finally clearing enough that she could speak clearly, though she could still feel the pressure pounding in her sinuses. She flopped back onto her pillows with a dramatic sigh. "I don't know what happened, I felt fine this morning."

"You said there wasn't any artifact in Featherhead, right?" Myka frowned.

"No, just a power grid that's about seventy years out of date." Claudia sat up, her interest piqued. "What, do you think an artifact got me?"

The older agent shrugged. "I mean, it's always a possibility. But I wouldn't be surprised if you'd just caught a cold on your own."

Claudia made a face. "Humor me. Tell me it's an artifact and you'll goo it and I won't have to deal with this anymore." She grabbed a handful of tissues and folded them around her nose.

Myka squeezed her shoulder. "I'll go see if Leena's finished with that soup."

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><p>"HURAASCH'uh, <em>h'AASCH'<em>uhn_._" Steve blew his nose for what had to have been the tenth time in the last half hour. His sinuses were so clogged he could hardly breathe, and yet his nose kept running, the shifting congestion making him sneeze again and again.

He dabbed at his nose with his handkerchief — now looking quite worse for the wear — and winced as the fabric brushed his chapped nostrils. He hadn't felt this sick in a long time. Even the new cold meds he'd been swiping from Claudia's stash didn't seem to take the edge off things.

Steve turned back to his computer screen and once again attempted to make sense of the words swimming before his eyes. The article may has well have been written in Ancient Greek for all that he was getting out of it right now. His head throbbed, his body ached, and the heaviness in his chest made his breath come in a wheeze, punctuated by staccato coughing fits.

In short, he felt like crap.

He was nodding off to sleep when Pete crashed into Artie's office with a bang that nearly made Steve fall out of his chair. He shook his head, heart racing.

"Geez, a little warning next time?" He grumped, straightening the papers that he'd knocked aside in his flailing. For the second time that day, Steve found a manilla folder hurtling straight at his face. And, for the second time that day, he missed it.

"Artifact ho, Stevie-o!" Pete said, grabbing his coat and stopping behind Steve's chair. "Let's get a move on!"

"Haven't I already been out in the field today?" Steve knew he was whining. He also knew that he felt like his head was stuffed full of cotton balls.

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Someone's grouchy." He spun Steve around to face him. "Come on, I've already got the car warming up. We're heading for Sioux City, Iowa."

"Wait…why isn't Myka going with you?"

"She's taking care of Claudia," Pete answered, with a clear 'duh' in his tone. "And Artie wants us close by in case either of them need anything, why is why — " he bent down and tipped Steve's chair up at an angle, so the former-ATF agent had no choice but to stand up or be thrown out of his chair, " —we should get a move on so we can get back ASAP."

Still grumbling, Steve brushing himself off and was following Pete to the door when his chest tightened, sending him into a coughing fit. He panted, wheezing, as the coughs kept coming, forcing themselves from his lungs in violent spasms that made the edges of his vision go grey. He didn't notice he'd fallen to his knees until Pete was kneeling in front of him, his hand on his shoulder as his lips formed words Steve couldn't hear over the rushing in his head.

The last thing he heard was Pete speaking to someone, although there was no one else in the room. And then, his vision faded completely to black.

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><p>Steve awoke to the feeling of something cold pressed against his chest. His eyes fluttered open and he groaned.<p>

"Whadt happedd?" He rasped, congested and hoarse. His throat felt like he'd swallowed a cheese grater.

His vision cleared to reveal Dr. Vanessa Calder at his bedside, her stethoscope in hand. She offered Steve a glass of water.

"You passed out in the Warehouse," she said, watching him closely. "Pete was with you — which was quite lucky on your part, I may add."

Steve just blinked at her, his head still far too fuzzy to make much sense of anything. Vanessa seemed to notice his confusion and continued on.

"You have pneumonia." She narrowed her eyes. "And by how you're looking, it seems like you've had it for a little while. How long have you been feeling sick?"

"Claudia," Steve whispered, a spike of panic penetrating the fog weighing down his body. "The — the metronome." He struggled to sit up, and Dr. Calder pushed him back down with no more than three fingers.

"She's fine, Agent Jinks," Vanessa said. "Just a cold. Which I'm guessing is where this all started for you as well."

Steve wilted against the pillows of his bed, avoiding her gaze. "A few days ago," he answered her earlier question.

"And why didn't you say anything?" She asked. "Difficulty breathing isn't exactly par for the course with the common cold."

He felt his cheeks warm. "Didn't want anyone to worry," he mumbled, so softly he wasn't sure if Vanessa had heard him.

She touched his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You have a family here, Steve," she said, her voice gentle. "They care about you just as much as you care about them. Let them."

There was a knock, and doctor and patient looked up to see Myka just outside Steve's room.

"Hey, Steve." She smiled. "How ya feeling?"

He coughed. "Fine." Dr. Calder glared at him, and he backpedaled. "Um, actually, not great."

Myka laughed. "You know, for a Human Lie Detector, you're a horrible liar."

"…So I've been told."

She stayed by the door, one hand on the frame. "Are you feeling up to a visitor?"

Who on earth would be coming to visit him? The confusion must have showed in his eyes, for Myka smiled and stepped to the side, revealing a pale and bedraggled-looking Claudia wrapped in a thick purple blanket.

"I am pissed off with you," she announced. Dr. Calder chuckled.

"I'll be back in a bit. Play nice, you two." She left with Myka, leaving Claudia and Steve together. Steve wriggled up a little higher on his pillows, guilt tugging heavily at his chest.

"Claude, I'm so, so sorry," he said, brows furrowed. "This — this damn _metronome — _"

"That's not why I'm pissed," Claudia interrupted him. Her tone was going for haughty, but she ruined it by turning to cough into her fist. Steve was relieved to hear that her coughs weren't nearly as deep or painful-sounding as his felt.

"I'm pissed because you didn't _tell_ me, you asshole." She shuffled into the room, blanket dragging behind her like an oversized cape. "What, did you think we weren't going to notice that you were a viral time bomb?"

"I…was hoping not." Steve's gaze dropped to his lap. Someone had removed his jacket and shoes and had substituted them with fuzzy socks.

His mattress shifted as Claudia plopped down, then scooted across towards him. "Move over, stupid-head."

"Stupid-head?" Steve teased, though a smile was beginning to tug at his lips, and he did as she said.

Claudia sniffed plaintively. "I'm sick. I can't be expected to perform at my highest level of snark."

Steve chuckled, though stopped with a wince and held his hand to his chest. "Ow," he wheezed.

It was Claudia's turn to look remorseful. "Damn, sorry. Here." She lifted the covers and slid underneath with him, wriggling around until her head rested in the hollow of his neck and her arms wrapped loosely around his chest. "Human heating pad."

Steve suddenly felt incredibly, pleasant warm, and it wasn't because of the fever or the physical heat of his best friend against him. He tucked her snugly against his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Sorry I made you sick," he mumbled into her hair, his eyes already drooping shut again. From the cadence of her breathing against him, he could tell Claudia was doing the same.

"Shut up and let me sleep."

He chuckled, then coughed. The fit tapered off after a few seconds, and Claudia held him tighter.

"Feel better, Jinksy," she mumbled into his chest, sending the happy warmth all the way down to his toes. This — this was where he belonged.

"Feel better, Claudia," he replied, and then fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

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><p><strong>Till next time, fellow Agents! Do me a favor and let me know what you thought - and if you have any ideas for a second story :)<strong>


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